


Empty Sky

by orphan_account



Series: Of Monsters and Martin [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Sex, Cuddling, Depression, M/M, Sad Boy Rights, Scars, Suicide Attempt, Trans Martin Blackwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Martin is going through a rough time and has a relationship with Michael Crew.(The Vast)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Michael "Mike" Crew
Series: Of Monsters and Martin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776565
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Empty Sky

**Author's Note:**

> The word cunt is used for Martin’s anatomy.

Martin Blackwood and Michael Crew were not a dysfunctional couple.

Both men had experienced awful things in their childhoods, and both preferred not to dwell on it. Discussions of childhood trauma were limited to Martin tracing his fingers over the expansive scar that covered Michael’s back, and Michael bowing his head and smiling softly to himself. He’d sit on Martin’s lap, his small body wrapped in Martin’s lovely arms, Martin planting soft kisses on the top of his head. It felt like love.

Martin had met Michael during an interesting period in his life. Martin didn’t have a job, he lived in a run-down flat, he’d tried to go back to live in his childhood home and his mother had turned him away at the door. Michael didn’t go looking for broken young men, but when you spend most of your evenings in a bar you tend to attract the sort of crowd that does the same, and Martin was no exception. However, Michael suspected he was different. He’d watched Martin walk in, looking back and forth as if he didn’t exactly know where he was. Martin had sat down at the bar, ordered a cocktail, taken a single sip and grimaced before shoving it off to the side. Then he’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at the wall.

“Are you alright?” Michael had asked him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Martin had looked at him with big, sad eyes, his beautiful face flushed with tears, and Michael had fallen in love.

“I-I’m fine, thank you,” Martin muttered.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t drink,” Martin said. Then, after remembering where he was, he shook his head and sighed. He didn’t correct himself, just rested his head on the bar.

“What are you doing in a bar, then?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know. Feel like it’s what you’re meant to do in this sort of situation.”

“What sort of situation?”

“I don’t want to bore you,” Martin said, shaking his head.

“You’re not going to bore me,” Michael argued. “We can go back to my place and talk all night long, if you’d like.”

Martin had looked up at him, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I’d like that,” he said.

Michael’s house wasn’t huge, but it was lovely in comparison to Martin’s flat. He’d immediately taken Martin up to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, and Martin had sat down next to him. They sat facing an enormous window, a window that took up nearly half the wall with a glass door that led out to a balcony. Through the window, Martin could see the beautiful expanse of the night sky. It made him feel small, but in a comforting way.

He’d told Michael about his family, about his mother, about how he’d never gone to uni and how the lights in his flat never stayed on and how he’d been fired from his job at the grocery store for having a breakdown in the cereal aisle three days prior and hadn’t had the heart to look for a new job. Michael had taken his hand, holding it gently. His hands were tiny compared to Martin’s, and Martin had told him it was cute. Michael had looked up at Martin, and Martin had bowed his head to kiss him. Michael could feel Martin shaking against him as they kissed, and he wrapped his arms around him, trying to calm him down.

Martin had told Michael he didn’t want to go home that night, and Michael had told him that was okay. They hadn’t done anything that night, but Martin had slept curled up against Michael and felt better in the morning. Michael asked Martin if he wanted to stay that day, and Martin had been delighted.

Things escalated that second night. Martin knew why Michael had brought him home in the first place, and when they retired to bed that night he took his shirt off, making a big show of pulling it over his head and showing himself off to Michael. Michael had noticed the scars on his chest, and Martin figured there wasn’t any point in not giving him the real explanation if things were going where he expected. Michael nodded along through Martin’s somewhat rambling explanation. Martin asked if he was okay with that, and Michael said yes, he was, he was very much okay with that. He just wanted to know what Martin would look like lying beneath him, what those big, sad eyes would look like then.

Michael took off his own shirt, and Martin pointed out the branching scar that covered his back, extending up to his neck and over his shoulders. Michael had clammed up at this, muttering something about how it wasn’t important before realizing Martin had explained his own scars, it was only fair he gave him the same courtesy. He’d explained how he’d been so young, playing with a friend outside when a storm rolled in. It was the worst pain he’d felt in his whole life, and he’d hated that scar since the day it appeared.

“It’s sort of pretty,” Martin said.

Michael didn’t know how to react to this.

Martin sat down next to him, tracing his finger over the lines on his shoulder. Michael shivered, but he didn’t ask Martin to stop. He didn’t want him to stop. Martin dragged his finger all the way down Michael’s back, tracing the scar until he reached the waistband of his pants.

“Is this what you want?” Martin whispered.

“Yes,” Michael replied. He’d stood up and removed his own pants, his cock stiffening as Martin rested a hand on his ass, just below where the scar ended. Martin stood up, keeping a hand on Michael. Michael turned towards him and undid his jeans, pulling his pants down and letting him step out of them. Martin pulled Michael into a tight hug, letting Michael’s cock rub against his thigh.

They crawled back into bed, Martin laying on his back and pulling Michael on top of him. Michael had kept eye contact with Martin as he reached into his nightstand and pulled out a condom, slowly pulling it over his cock before lying down on top of Martin. Martin guided Michael inside of him, and Michael thrust halfheartedly a couple times before collapsing onto his chest. Martin held him there, stroking the mangled skin of his back. It wasn’t good sex; after a few minutes of heavily breathing against Martin’s chest Michael went soft and slid out, leaving the pair simply lying naked in each other’s arms. Still, it was good.

Martin had gone home the next day, but only to grab some of his clothes and a few other important items to take back to Michael’s place. He didn’t consider it moving in, he was just going to stay for a while. Maybe until he could afford a better place for himself, maybe longer.

He did end up getting a job eventually, but it didn’t pay much better than the one at the grocery store, and he was reluctant to move out of his apartment despite the fact that he barely lived there. He spent his nights in Michael’s arms, or holding Michael in his arms, talking very little. They weren’t happy, but it wasn’t each other’s fault.

It was after a particularly stressful day at work that Martin had asked Michael to fuck him.

They hadn’t really tried to have sex again since that first night. Crying into each other’s arms while cuddling felt sweet, but crying into each other’s arms during sex felt wrong and upsetting. They’d gotten naked a few times with the intention of trying, but it always ended in quiet, somber cuddling, and they soon realized that was what they really wanted.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Michael had asked.

“Yes,” Martin insisted. “I want you to fuck me. Can you do that?”

“I can try,” Michael replied. “But you know we’ve tried, and it’s never gone well…”

“I won’t cry this time,” Martin said. “And if I do, don’t stop for me.”

Michael swallowed, nodding slowly. That probably wasn’t meant to sound as sinister as it had.

There was no elegance to their actions as they crawled into bed that night. Martin didn’t even bother taking off his shirt beforehand, and Michael decided to keep his on as well. He quickly pulled on a condom and pressed the tip of his cock against Martin’s cunt. Martin placed his hands on his ass and pushed him inside.

Michael gasped as Martin took hold of his hips, guiding him in and out and bucking his own hips with each thrust. His pace was quick, and it was unlike anything Michael had ever done with Martin. It wasn’t soft and tender, it was rough and hard and Martin was moaning underneath him. He began to thrust harder, independent of Martin’s hands, and Martin whined happily.

Throughout the affair, Michael maintained eye contact with Martin, waiting for him to start tearing up, giving him an indication to slow down. It never came. Martin’s eyes remained blank, his gaze distant and unfocused even as he moaned with pleasure. At one point Martin’s head turned to the side, and Michael realized he was looking out the window. He took a moment to look for himself at the vast starscape outside, but in the process he slowed his pace and Martin grabbed his hips, reminding him to keep going, harder and harder until Martin came. He dug his nails into Michael’s hips as he did so, so hard that it might’ve hurt if Michael wasn’t so caught up in his own orgasm.

Martin’s eyes remained fixed on the window, Even as Michael pulled out of him, tossing the condom into the bin and pulling his pants back on, Martin remained motionless in the bed. Michael crawled in next to him, pulling the blanket over them both and giving Martin a kiss goodnight. Martin didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stared at the window.

When Michael woke up, Martin wasn’t in bed. It was only good luck that he glanced out the window, noticing the glass door open and Martin sitting on the rail of the balcony.

He rushed out, joining Martin in the cold night air.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Stargazing,” Martin replied.

“It’s cold out here,” Michael said. “You should come back in. Come back to bed with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Martin said, shaking his head. He rocked gently back and forth, tilting precariously off the railing.

“You really should stop that,” Michael said. “It’s a long way down.”

“I know.” Martin lifted his hands off the railing, setting them in his lap.

“Martin… please come inside.”

“I don’t think I will.”

Martin rocked back and forth again, this time tilting too far forward, losing his balance and slipping off the balcony rail. Michael screamed, leaning over the railing to stare down at the yard below. He couldn’t see the ground. He didn’t hear an impact either. Quickly, he rushed downstairs and outside into the yard, the thoughts of potential bloody carnage pushed to the back of his mind by sheer worry at just what Martin had done.

Martin was laying in the yard, in front of a patch of hedges. He had a few scrapes on his face and hands, but other than that he was unharmed.

“Martin!” Michael exclaimed, seeing Martin lying on the ground. “Jesus, Martin, are you alright?”

Michael looked down at Martin. For the first time that night, he saw Martin’s face twist, tears springing forth to his eyes. He stood up, brushing the stray leaves and dirt off his clothing, and looked up at Michael with tearful eyes.

“I think I should go home,” he sobbed. “I don’t think… I don’t think this is good for me.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked. “You still haven’t told me what you were doing out there. Were you trying to kill yourself?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, okay? But you’re not helping. You’re not good for me, I can feel it.”

Michael was silent. He honestly had no idea what Martin meant by this.

“Look, Martin, I don’t know what happened, but we can fix this. We can fix this. I love you.”

Martin shook his head.

“I need to go home,” he repeated.

Michael had watched Martin walk down the sidewalk, away from his home, until all he could see was the black void of night. He cried, of course he cried, he’d just watched his lover fall off a balcony and then abandon him out of the blue. It all gave him the distinct sense this was his fault. The confidence with which Martin had told him he wasn’t good, the distance in Martin’s expression while they’d fucked, it all felt like he really had done something wrong, though he had no idea what that would have been.

Michael would enter Martin’s life again one day, in a very different way, but Martin would not remember who he was. They’d met at a strange point in his life after all-most of it was bad, and most of it he simply chose not to remember.


End file.
